


Lost Souls

by AmiraHellion



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Batfamily Feels, Introspection, no profreading we die like mne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2018-12-19 06:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 15,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11892177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmiraHellion/pseuds/AmiraHellion
Summary: Yeah, so I'm not as brushed up on all the Batman-ness as I'd like to be, and I do kno this is probably so not cannon. But I don't care, because its just for me, fighting against that writer's block. If you enjoy, cool, feel free to comment and all, if not-ooooooh weeeeeeelll !





	1. Home

_What’s happening?_ Usually Batman was able to answer this question by taking a look around, observing and judging his environment, but not today…if it even was day. He was floating in nothingness, he couldn’t feel anything, and hell his own weightlessness was almost surreal- like he wasn’t even in his body anymore. _What’s going on?_ On that note, Batman tried to catalogue his thoughts, trying to piece back what he’d been doing, looking for any possible clue as to _where even am I??_

  
He remembered getting ready for patrol, pulling on the suit, listening to Tim and Damian bicker as usual, not worried because, well, this was the usual; it was how they communicated and Bruce was glad there didn’t seem to be any heat to either of their words. Plus, Dick had just come strolling down the stairs, yawning and making some ‘lets just all get along’ comment while languidly messing up his brothers’ hair; Tim ignored it, turning back to his original task of prepping his utility belt, while Damian fussed at Dick for the ‘childishness directed at his person’.  
Then there was Stephanie piping up through the comms as she signed on for the night, joining Cassandra on the gargoyles- Cassandra had been out for an hour already. Barbara was up and running too, had already assisted Cassandra with a mugging and was scolding Jason for ‘causing thousands of dollars of damage when he could’ve just shot out their kneecaps, jerk-face’. Which made Jason respond, unashamed with ‘the scaffolding was coming down anyway, besides I make my own ammunition, thank you very fucking much’. The quip let Batman know that his second son was okay, in a good mood because he always went big destruction-wise when he was in a good mood; which, though pissed off the Oracle, made Bruce a little happy. Alfred, of course, caught the twinkle in his eye and gave a pointed look that was both amused and plainly said ‘he is your son’.

  
Things start to get fuzzy after that. He remembers going out for patrol, Damian at his side. It had been a good week so far, this night continuing that simplicity- a bank robbery, two drug dealers, and one gang war in a neighborhood, things that were easy. _That should’ve been my first clue that something was going to go wrong._ Batman thought grumpily, _there’s always a calm before a storm_. But. What was the storm that had led to this? He wracked his mind, getting only flickers. An opponent, male? Maybe. No, yes, absolutely male. Small, but an adult. Dangerous. **Very Dangerous**.  
       _“I could rend their souls from their bodies, your precious children, it would be amusing right? Especially for the ones who’ve died, oh wait, that’s nearly all of them, isn’t it?” A laugh that chilled Batman to his bones, his gut telling him this guy was even worse than the Joker. He’d fucking do it, he’d hurt the kids without batting an eye. Batman was on the villain without even thinking, aiming to do as much damage in as short of time as possible, fuck the consequences, fuck if he died from it- he had threatened Batman’s kids and Batman was tired of losing his children._  
There was a thunderclap at the realization, _Did I beat him? Are the kids okay? Oh god! What if something happened to the children!? I have to get home. I have to get home now! Now, god damn it!_ He felt like screaming, but whatever was wrong with him right now. He didn’t have a voice. _No!! I have to go home!!!_ He still screamed, with his heart, his soul, whatever it was, it was crying out with everything that Bruce had.  
              “Hey.” A voice interrupted, it was soft and rich, “What’s wrong?” Something enveloped Batman, it was the first tangible thing he’d felt since arriving at…wherever this was. “Why, you’re just a fragment of a soul! I don’t know how you’ve lasted this long.” _What?! I need to go home!_ “Home? Where’s home?”  
_…where is home? Well home is…_ Batman’s mind flickered to the manor, but that was just a house. The batcave? But that was just part of the house too. Alfred, Dick, Barbara, Jason, Cassandra, Tim, Stephanie, and Damian. _Home_. They were home.  
“We’ll find it. I’ll help you.”


	2. French toast

Alfred paced, he knew it was unseemingly, but it couldn’t be helped. His boy was in trouble, yet again. How Alfred’s heart handled this nonsense all these years was a miracle that even Alfred himself questioned at times.

Bruce had gone off radar and off-comms for almost two hours. Alfred called home the Batmobile while Oracle said she’d start looking around for him and they agreed they’d call in the others if they couldn’t find Batman right away. Turns out, once the Batmobile pulled up, Bruce poured out of it like liquid mumbling something about the kids, ordering Alfred to call everybody home that he wanted to see them, wanted to make sure they were alright, and then he promptly passed out, hitting the floor hard. Alfred felt his heart jump, as he rushed over and told Oracle to send everyone to the batcave now.

That had been yesterday morning. They had contacted Dr. Thompkins immediately and she’d found…nothing. Nothing was wrong with Bruce’s body, a couple of bruises at most, but nothing else. Not even a concussion to explain why he’d passed out and why he was still unconscious. He wasn’t brain dead, the brain scans showed that he was in a sleep-like state. There was no sign of anything in his blood either. With nothing else to do, Jason and Dick bore most of the weight to get Bruce upstairs to his bed while Oracle contacted Zatanna.

Zatanna hadn’t found anything wrong in the morning hours either. They were going to contact Doctor Fate as soon as he was back on world. This was worse than Bruce being poisoned or broken or lost in time, they had nothing. And nothing meant they didn’t even know where to start to fix this.

"Alf?" Dick leaned in the door, "You okay?" Alfred could see the smile on the boy’s face was strained, he was trying to very hard to keep his composure for the others.

"Yes, Master Dick." Alfred took a deep breath, forcing himself to get it together, Dick couldn’t handle this alone. "I suppose since none of you are going to go to bed at the moment, I’ll start some lunch." With that, he gave a squeeze to Dick’s shoulder and headed to the kitchen.

"French toast would be nice." Dick said as he followed the butler.

"Was there anything weird while you guys were out?" Tim and Damian sat at the table, Tim trying to make some sort of time-line, _ever the logical one, just like Bruce._

Damian shook his head, "No, nothing unusual."

"Was Bruce acting out of the ordinary?" Tim asked, while Dick sat down next to Damian.

Damian considered the question, Alfred could see the quick inventory the boy was doing in his mind, analyzing the night with Batman carefully. _Another Bruce-like trait._ "No, Father was at peak condition last night."

"Yeah, B was fine when he let Damian come off with me. I watched him break that drug dealer’s arms with a little more force than necessary but he was selling to kids so…" Dick let the sentence trail off, it was normal for Batman to get more violent when it came to anything related to children.

"Yep, typical hypocrite." Jason said as he entered the kitchen, popping the ‘p’ on yep. Damian glared darkly, about to say something but Alfred presented French toast to the group of boys before things could get nasty. "Thanks Alfie!" Jason reached for the food, barely stopping himself from just grabbing when Alfred raised an eyebrow at him. "I need a plate…?"

"Yes." Alfred agreed, offering the boys plates.

"So whatever happened, must’ve happened when Bruce was on his own, right?" Stephanie asked as she came in with Cassandra and Barbara, "After Dick and Damian left him?" Alfred gave the girls plates as well.

"Must have." Barbara agreed, "He said he was going to do one last circle around before heading back here. He goes off comms between the pier and the butcher’s quarters, his tracker even goes off." Barbara spoke, cutting up her French toast, "Could be something as simple as magnetic interference, the warehouses down in that area are sealed up tight against scanners and such. But there was a whole blackout in a 5-mile radius before B got there, which amplified to a 10-mile radius about 30 minuets after B went offline. Then at 3 am sharp, the blackout just disappeared. Its eerie."

"So 1 am, we all went to get ice cream," Dick began with a gesture to encompass everyone.

Jason put out his hands in a gesture of ‘what gives’, "And no one invited me?" He asked indignantly.

"I did too!" Dick instantly blustered, "You said you didn’t want to be seen with us! But I did invite you! I even said you could have the ice cream with the peanut butter cups and I wouldn’t even ask for a bite!"

"Eh-hem." Barbara rapped on the table with her knuckle, "Yes, 1 am, everybody gets ice cream except jerk-face who decided to get a chili dog from a shady vendor,"

"Everybody in that neighborhood is shady." Barbara sent a glare a Jason for his interruption, "I’m just saying."

"Just saying that you’re an imbecile who’s not offering anything of import to this conversation so silence yourself." Damian snapped.

"You know what, demon?" Jason growled. Alfred cleared his throat, giving Jason and Damian both a good look, which made them both sneer at each other but go quiet.

"1 am, Bruce goes off alone, 1:30 goes off comms, 2 the blackout amplifies, 3 the interference goes away and Alfred calls the Batmobile home which leads us to now." Barbara continues, loudly to prevent any more interruptions.

"What happened when B got home, Alfred?" Tim asked quietly, looking at the butler with his full attention. In fact all of the ‘batkids’ as the League lovingly referred to them had all gotten that sharp ‘Bruce-like’ expression on their faces as they looked at Alfred.

"He got out of the Batmobile," A gracious description of how he practically rolled out of the car, "He was very upset, asking after you all." Alfred had heard only a couple snippets of the mutterings, but he understood their content, "Then he passed out."

"Asking after us? He knew we were all getting ice cream. I invited him **too**." Dick said, sending a look at Jason who rolled his eyes.

"Yes, he was very worried. He said he wanted to see you all, that he wanted you back right then and there." Alfred remembered Bruce even asking specifically if anyone had seen Jason that night, or checked in on Barbara. The batkids shared a few looks, a couple letting out sighs.

"Well that gives us even more questions than answers." Tim murmured bleakly, pushing away his half-eaten French toast and sipping on his coffee, well what he had thought was coffee- Alfred had made him tea for his own good. He wrinkled his nose in distaste but kept drinking.

"I think you all need some rest." Alfred stated, making the kids blink owlishly at him, "Today preferably." This caused a tiny smirk to go around.


	3. The roof and pillars

_How is this helping me?_ Bruce wondered, feeling himself pulled around.

"You have to rebuild your soul before you can go back into your body."

 _My soul? So I really am just a…spirit?_ That explained a lot- the fact that he couldn’t hear, smell, touch, taste or see. And yet, he could still sense some things. Like that he was moving. And that he was surprisingly at ease with whomever this voice belonged to. It made him suspicious, but, being a sliver of soul as he was, not like he could do much of anything at this point.

"Yep, you’re at my mercy." The laugh was beautiful, a cadence of amusement. Bruce was once again suspicious of how nice he found it. "Oh look we’re here." Bruce then felt like he was falling, falling like at night from rooftop to rooftop; he enjoyed the short feeling of familiar exhilaration.

Then suddenly opera music and warmth, the smell of homemade food and the feel of velvet on fingertips. The vigilante knew what all this meant, even without his senses. _Alfred._ His trusty butler, guardian, and friend was an almost absurd (if it wasn’t Alfred of course) mix of wealth and modesty. He ached for his long-time companion, trying to rush closer when the man fleshed out before him.

Alfred was asleep. _It’s been a long time…_ Bruce thought as seemed to hover above the butler’s bed, not really remembering the last time he’d seen Alfred sleep. It was the gentleman’s modus operandi to be awake whenever Bruce was awake. He sighed to himself, slowly drifting downward to the side of Alfred’s bed. _Oh Alfred…_

They’d been through a lot together, or well, Bruce had put the older man through a lot. It was ironic really how Bruce had been broken down and glued back together so many times while Alfred remained as unscathed as a stone. Though, that was what enabled the vigilante to piece himself back together every time, because he had help, because he always had help. Help for the small things, like the stupid projects when he was school, to the big things, like keeping the family together.

Alfred had helped Dick break in to his heart, taught Jason how to get under his skin, gave Tim a pedestal to stand beside him, and made Damian feel human. And always made the girls feel welcome where Bruce fell short. Alfred was definitely the embodiment of home, safe and secure. He was the roof over their heads and the pillars that stood tall.

Bruce could muse for hours about the wonders of Alfred. The man who could command like a hardened general and yet took commands as his butler with such grace. The gentlemen who could be rough and tumble if required and yet delicately tie a tie in, hell, 60 different ways?

-

Alfred woke with warmth in his chest. He hadn’t had dreams like that in a long time, the light-hearted ones, the ones with memories of Bruce before the ‘mission’ absorbed the boy’s life, and the few good memories that came afterwards- letting Dick ‘accidentally’ find the Batcave, teaching Jason to cook things that even the ‘great Batman’ couldn’t, always allowing Tim in where Bruce tried to shut him out, and never permitting Damian to put his nose up too high.

A chuckle was brought to his lips when he thought about Bruce’s forced waffle morning with the girls. To think the Batman didn’t know how to use a waffle iron (not that Alfred thought he couldn’t figure it out) but he’d left the Batgirls the job of teaching the man one morning and had returned to a messed up kitchen. It was worth it though, as the waffle classroom had spiraled into a waffle competition at some point and ended with happy bats around the table; even the big bat that pretended to be grumpy because Stephanie had won.

"You better wake up soon, Master Bruce." Alfred murmured to his empty room.


	4. Chandelier

With an ache in his chest and tears streaming down his face, he could only stare at his parents broken bodies. Eyes glued until a cape cut into the frame, blocking it out. Dick remembered this, the first time seeing Batman and feeling the alleviation that would soon become part of Batman’s trademark in his mind.

A welcoming smile that was almost at odds with the soulful eyes that looked at him with sadness and yet resolve. Dick remembered this one too, the first time seeing Mr. Wayne and realizing that his eyes always told the truth

And to think these two were actually one. It shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise, but it really was. As surprising as the enormous house that held many secrets especially the ones buried beneath, and the butler who could gain obedience with a mere look at his ‘master’.

 _This has got to be a dream…_ Dick thought as memories filed in and out, not chronological but in some order all its own. He knew it had to be a dream, because while the moments circled him, he almost felt like he was experiencing them from Bruce’s point-of-view.

Like the memory of first getting to the manor, being presented a new home which Dick was sure he’d never have again- it was overshadowed by the knowledge of Bruce’s worry; worry that he might ruin the little boy, but he still wanted to try his very best to give Dick a better life. Dick had never considered how Bruce was feeling that day, he was wrapped up in grief and caution.

Or, the first time Dick had rushed to Bruce’s room in the middle of the night with nightmares. Bruce had wrapped him up in a blanket and held him close, whispering soft words and letting his heartbeat in Dick’s ear comfort when he was silent. That night for Dick was a staple of Bruce becoming his parent, he knew right then and there that this man was going to be his dad. He had never considered that Bruce was nervous that he didn’t know how to help this child, or that he wondered if he wasn’t enough to provide solace. And yet, Bruce also knew right there that Dick was now his baby and he loved him with every shred of his heart.

The first time Dick had called him dad, and Bruce’s whole world brightened. The first time Dick had become Robin, and Batman was restless with worry but oh so proud and knew his boy could face the grime of Gotham with strength. That exhilaration of the first night as a duo, Robin flying and Batman feeling like he was carrying a pocket of sunshine to ward off the darkness.

Even the fights, where Dick had felt bitter for a long time. Leaving Batman, he’d never thought that his father actually felt pride, that he knew Robin needed to find himself, would be capable of taking what was thrown at him and knew Batman’s nest would always have room for his ‘little bird’ if Dick returned. All he’d heard out of Bruce was from his protective, parental, and cautionary side. He was just a dad not wanting to let go, especially since it hurt to have to let go.

Dick had never even thought of the hurt that Bruce must’ve endured when his son refused to talk to him for years. It was no wonder he’d taken in Jason, and Dick still hated that back then, he’d thought Bruce was replacing him. Bruce’s heart was big enough to give a fuck about a wrecked city, there was definitely enough room for both Dick and Jason. Dick was always so sorry that he wasn’t there when Jason had died, Bruce needed him then and he hadn’t come when he should have.

Dick could still remember when he finally understood that Batman needed a Robin at his side. When Tim had come to him and showed him that Bruce was spiraling into a darkness that swallowed souls. He remembered Bruce’s face, the man was such a pessimist, he had thought that Dick might never come back and had looked like he was seeing a ghost. Or maybe Dick was the one seeing the ghost, as Batman was like a painting that’d seen too much sun- still striking and powerful but faded. Bruce had masked it well then, but Dick knew now that his dad had been happy to see him again.

And had been happy with him since, glad to repair the damage in their relationship, pleased to see him at least once a week. Grateful for Dick stepping up as Batman and Damian’s caretaker when he was lost in time. Appreciative for Dick trying all the time, trying to bring the family together, trying to be everyone’s light, trying to be perfect.

Dick woke up at that, taking only a moment to come back to reality. "I really must be thinking a lot of myself." Dick mused to himself, thinking _As if Bruce really felt any of that…_ Or at least not all of it… _right?_ Dick couldn’t deal with it, he got up and headed to his dad’s room where the man was still sleeping like the dead.

Alfred puttered in just as the sun was cresting, "Good morning Master Dick, you’re up early." There was a hint of ‘go back to bed’ to the butler’s words. After all, only three hours of sleep after staying up for two days prior wasn’t exactly ideal.

"Good morning Alfie." Dick said, offering his grandfather of sorts a smile as he sat on Bruce’s bed, putting his hand through the man’s hair. "Hey, do you remember when I left?" Alfred nodded after a moment, checking the monitor on Bruce’s heart, "And Bruce was so mad…do you think, that maybe, even a little, tiny bit, he like…knew why I needed to go and was maybe even…I dunno…proud of me?" Dick ventured quietly, studiously preening over Bruce’s hair.

"Of course. We had many conversations." Alfred answered.

"Really?!" Dick’s eyes snapped to Alfred.

Alfred nodded then must’ve seen the rapt attention on Dick’s face, "He worried, as any normal father would, even when his son isn’t risking life and limb, but he was always proud of you. He and I both know you are an excellent leader and capable in many things, not just caped crusading." The butler delivered honestly with his usual sass.

"He was so unhappy though…"

"As most parents are when their children grow up and become insufferable." Alfred spoke, pointing a glance at his ‘child’ though Bruce wasn’t awake to see or hear; Dick saw it all though and giggled. "Why ask, Master Dick?" Alfred inquired.

"Just…I was dreaming about it…" Dick murmured, "I dreamt I was the light in a dark house, a big giant chandelier."


	5. The Security System

Another day and nothing. Bruce hadn’t woken up and there were still no answers. Barbara was sure that she and Tim were having an unspoken competition at this point about who could stay up longer. And yet for all their efforts, they’d turned up a whole lot of nothing; the nothingness itself was sinister.

Maybe it was time to sleep. Plus it didn’t help that Alfred was metaphorically breathing down their necks to get some rest, the butler had more posh than to literally do it, but the effect of his sarcasm and dry speaking was worse.

"Calling it a night, everyone." Barbara spoke. It had been Tim’s second night going over the butcher’s quarters and pier with a fine-tooth comb. "Especially you, RR. Get home and to bed, before Agent A drugs your coffee."

"Not the drugged coffee…that always gives me a headache." Tim whined back under his breath. Barbara could only snicker, watching her screens as everyone got back to their respective nests- Tim, Damien, and Dick at the manor, Cassandra and Stephanie at Steph’s apartment, and Jason in the top floor of an abandoned warehouse. She made sure everyone was settled, before she put her computers on their secondary programming- it kept tabs on the city and only sent out an alarm if something major went down.

She wheeled herself to her bedroom, sinking into the plush bed with a grateful sigh. This was the most comfortable bed that she’d ever had the pleasure of sleeping in and she had slept in the beds at Wayne manor. Of course, Bruce had bought the bed, carried it up with Dick’s help, put it together, and had Alfred layer the sheets and blankets on it. Bruce was weird that way. Getting a ‘thank you’ out of the man was like getting blood from a stone, but he had actively searched for the most comfortable bed for two weeks, (she had seen the web-browsing history) just because he knew she needed a new bed and he wanted her to have the very best. When Alfred said Bruce was a man-of-action, he wasn’t kidding.

She fell asleep easily in the comfy mess of blankets and pillows. And was dreaming within moments. Or maybe it’d be better to say she was merely remembering.

Some part of her still marveled over the man that was Batman as she had when she was younger. Little Barbara Gordon dogging her father’s steps when he came home, firing questions about how Batman had helped that night, fishing for clues about who might be under the mask, pestering relentlessly. She had wanted to know everything.

Still wanted to know everything, Bruce was a mystery. How did a billionaire that had every privilege in the world give a damn about, well, anyone else? And how was someone able to put the fear of god in every criminal that’d ever crossed him (and Superman, none of them were fooled by big blue) and still be considered ‘dumb but pretty’ by most of Gotham??

It was funny too, how when she had first donned the mask and cape as Batgirl, Batman tried really hard to ward her off, he grumped and growled all over, and yet, he was the first to try to shield her and teach her and protect her. He was definitely the epitome of hard crunchy outside and the soft sweet inside. It was like having a second father, someone else who’d always be on her side and face down any and all enemies.

-

 _I hope she’s comfortable…_ Bruce thought, relieved when Barbara finally went to bed.

"That’s your first thought?" The voice that had guided him to Alfred and Dick asked playfully.

 _Well, I want her comfortable, she’s…_ Bruce sighed, _she’s my kid._ He had never really told anyone that before, but it was true. Even if he’d never even tried to take her father’s place because Detective Gordon was a good father, she was still Batman’s kid on some level too. Batgirl was all Batman’s progeny or so Bruce liked to think- stubborn and tenacious, she could be just like him in some ways. Definitely not like his golden boy, she charged in where Dick would give Batman half-a-breath to give instructions.

A chuckle came to him when he thought of Dick and Barbara dating and Gordon looking at the kids- positive that Dick was the troublesome one. Bruce had almost wanted to assure him, that if anything happened with Barbara between her and **any** boy, it was because she allowed it. That girl had a lot of control, and even more so now, she was in control- heck, she had strings over the Batman!

And that was one of the most amazing things about Barbara, how she had gotten back up after losing her legs and had become that much smarter and that much stronger. Her resilience became everyone else’s, and especially Bruce’s, safety net.

Yeah, if Alfred were the roof and pillars, and Dick the lights, then Barbara was the security system.


	6. Closed door

Jason always slept restlessly. But tonight was so much worse. Tonight was memory night apparently, and _god damn it_ , it wasn’t the coffin ones. It was the ones where Jason was happy. He hated those, that sense of nostalgia, the possibilities of what could have been, the wasted time, everything.

Jason remembered the first time he put eyes on the batmobile, _god it was a fantastic car_. And hell, he knew he’d get top dollar for those wheels. Of course, Batman squashed that idea. Jason remembered laying eyes on the infamous dark knight too and thinking ‘oh god I’m in deep shit’. Batman was so so big. _Fuck_ , Bruce was still fucking big. Even though Jason was only an inch or two shorter, he still felt like a kid around the man. _Guess people always tend to feel small around their parents…_

 _Parents…_ Jason thought with an amused snort at the thought. He was such a freak that his first real parent was the Batman. And he meant parent, not just who donated sperm and who popped you out, but a real parent. The one that would make you feel safe with just their presence, who went to fucking bat for you even if you did wrong- Jason had flooded the school’s bathroom once and Bruce (who probably knew he was guilty as fuck) still raised his hackles at the school’s principle and defended Jason’s honor and fake innocence. The one who asked ‘how was your day?’, even though it’s the same monotonous thing every damn day, but just the question gives an open line that you need as a kid. The one who didn’t rat you out to the butler when you stole cookies, didn’t tire when it came to teaching you, and didn’t ever completely turn his back on you even when you’d disappointed him so many…many times.

 _Fuck, stop._ Jason pleaded to his mind. He didn’t want to remember that moment that oh he fucking knew that he loved Bruce and that Bruce loved him and that he’d always be this man’s baby. How Bruce’s big hand felt as it pet his hair and the warmth of his smile. Jason didn’t want to remember how Batman’s eyes had shined and he looked almost high for a mili-second when Jason first called him ‘dad’.

When he’d come back from being dead and Batman realized it was him- Jason didn’t want to think that maybe that look that he couldn’t decipher was maybe actually, not anger and disappointment as Jason suspected, but a mix of surprise and hope and happiness; because hey, his kid was actually alive and he could see him and talk to him and feel that he was breathing (even if they were trying to pound each other into the ground at that moment).

Even now, Jason didn’t know what the fuck that look that Bruce got meant. Where his true blue eyes got almost soft, and his mouth did that weird straight-line thing like he was piecing together the mysteries of the universe in his head. He wished he knew what it meant. He wished he knew Bruce like he used too. Wished that Bruce didn’t hesitate like he did now to squeeze Jason’s shoulder or run a hand against the back of Jason's head in passing (both Batman for ‘good job’).

It just sucked that he and Bruce both had problems getting close, one of many traits they shared (not that Jason would ever admit that). Jason knew he was like the doors in the manor, sometimes open, sometimes shut, sometimes locked so damn tight that even he didn’t know where the key was…like now.

But, Jason occasionally liked to believe that Bruce wanted to be close again, wanted to wrap Jason in hugs, talk about books, and have ‘battles’ over cookies like they had before. And, truthfully, Jason wanted to allow it. But… _there’s always a fucking ‘but’…_

If he was the big, sturdy door that stood between the outside world and the family, because really, he was always good at getting in someone’s fucking way and at the very least slowing them down…then he was a closed door; with the family on one side and him on the other. He wanted to be an open door! _Fuck. Stop! This has to stop._

Jason jolted awake, feeling the tears running across his face and his breath caught in his chest from the silent sobs. The Red Hood lay there all of five seconds before he couldn’t take it anymore. He had to at least **see** Bruce, tonight, right now.

"Goddamnit!" Jason growled to himself as he threw on clothes, scolding himself mentally, because really this was just pathetic. He was worried about the Batman! Batman who everyone said was just fine, not even a broken bone, he just wouldn’t wake up. _Urgh…_ Jason groaned internally as he picked up his helmet, he’d die again before admitting that he really cared.

"And yet here I fucking am." Jason sneered at no one as he straddled his bike and headed for the manor.

He was pretty sure everyone was asleep as he went through the BatCave and slunk upstairs; nobody needed to know he was here. He pushed open Bruce’s door just enough for him to slide through, carefully padding to the bed to look at his dad. The vigilante was peaceful, Jason getting tired again just looking at him. _Fucking sleeping easy while I’m having dreams and shit._ He glanced around, listening for anyone else, before sighing to himself as he made a decision. He pulled off his jacket and heeled off his boots, crawling onto the bed as quietly as possible. He remembered doing this too, of course he was smaller back then. It was awkward in some ways, but he figured that propriety had been damned for Bruce after he had adopted Dick and then everyone else-this bed wasn’t just Bruce’s, it was for all the kids.

"You need to get to waking the fuck up, old man, ‘cause I’m getting tired of all this worrisome shit." He muttered to Bruce as he flopped down, head on the edge of B’s pillow, "I have enough problems sleeping without dreams about you in there too."


	7. Clear Window

Cassandra was the one to find an embarrassed Jason in their father’s bed that morning. Cassandra wasn’t surprised, not even surprised when Jason stomped into his boots and practically ran out of the room, hair still mussed, and sleep in his eyes. _Little brother,_ Cass thought with a sigh, _always trying so hard to hide._ She looked over at Bruce, who continued to sleep, blissfully unaware of the worry he caused his children, even the ones who pretended they didn’t care. They were coping as best they could while they waited, roosting as close as their namesakes; Cass and Steph had come back to the manor last night with Tim, Dick, and Damien. The only ones not home now were Babs and Jason, but apparently Jason was giving into those family instincts too. (Of course Cassandra didn’t tell anyone)

 _He’s so still…_ Cassandra thought as she stood watching Bruce. Another day had passed. Another day the Batman was so unmoving that it was almost frightening to his daughter. _Its not right._ Even when her dad was stationary, Batman still had a motion to him; an easy tensing in his shoulders and calves, eyes focused and observing, power rippling through his form like the cape on his back. _Its not right…_

"Miss Cassandra?" Alfred inquired as he entered the room. Cassandra glanced over her shoulder, acknowledging her grandfather’s presence. She could see Alfred’s worry, an unusual stiffness to his movements that didn’t suit the fluid butler, but he masked it beautifully as he in turn took stock of the young woman as well.

"My turn." Cassandra answered before Alfred even asked, putting her pillow next to Bruce’s on his bed. Bruce hadn’t slept alone since he’d collapsed; Dick, Damien, and Tim (even Jason) had come in and out every day.

A slight smile checked in and out of Alfred’s lips, though the delighted twinkle remained, "Shall I bring you an extra blanket?" He knew that she hated to be tucked into bed, would rather sleep on top of the sheets with a loose blanket.

However, tonight Cassandra wanted to be close, would deal with the tucked blankets of Bruce’s massive bed, "No, thank you Alfred." Because she wanted to be under the covers with her dad and feel the warmth that indicated he was alive and he was coming back to them.

Alfred nodded regally, understanding in a way that only he could as he picked up the edge of the blankets and ushered Cassandra in. He pulled the sheets on her bottom corner, un-tucking them just so and actually rumpling the blankets just enough that the girl would have a pleasant range of motion. "Goodnight Miss Cassandra." Alfred said and Cass returned a wave and a smile as Alfred left the room.

Cassandra had taught herself to sleep fast, one needed to sleep when and where they could as a rule of thumb in the world she grew up in. Usually the girl’s dreams were silent, all conversations were done with bodies and motion. Tonight’s dreams were different, voices and words blended perfectly with her quiet understandings. It was…nice. Memories merging and pushing around and through her.

Meeting Batman was awe-inspiring, she was still in some ways amazed by her father- how could one be perfect movement and flow like a raging river unstoppable, and yet also be rooted and unyielding as a mountain?? Such a mix of nature and physicality that by all rights should have been at odds with each other was presented in one man in harmony.

She remembered the warm feeling that filled her that first time that Batman pulled her under his cape, close to his side, the vulnerable place where his armor was weakest, where a mere 3-inch blade could tickle his heart if she desired. He tucked her close, protecting her as she had never been, and trusting her, who was raised to kill and nothing more.

The first time she realized that perhaps there was another who was bad at words as she and communicated more with his body. A softness to his normally tight jaw which indicated relaxation around her, the roughened pad of his thumb brushing her cheek as he offered a smile with his eyes that told her he was happy to have her, the ruffle of her hair that was the praise she wasn’t used to receiving. A dangerous wrinkle between his brows when anyone should make threats against her (even when he knew she could beat them with one arm behind her back), his hand gentle as he guided her finger on the book as he pronounced words for her, and that tiny hidden smile that he reserved for family, only family, family which included her.

 _Wake up…_ she pleaded to dream Bruce, hugging tight to his warmth. _Please wake up._

-

Bruce ached _My baby girl is crying._ He thought, almost in a panic because Cassandra wasn’t his crier.

"All the more reason to piece you back together as fast as possible, yeah?" The voice spoke, as if it didn’t know the torture it was making Bruce endure. Alfred and Dick. Barbara and Jason. Now Cassandra. He felt so heavy remembering all that his family had gone through, because of him. "Weight keeps you grounded." The voice murmured velvety with underlying steel, "And now, you have to stop being so damn guilty, because your children have chosen their lives and are still pushing through in their own ways."

It was like being slapped. _But-_

"Haven’t you been learning? And I thought the Batman was supposed to be quick on his toes." The voice snickered.

 _Learning?_ He pondered that as he watched his daughter, wanting to brush her hair back and dry her silent tears. His little window, the one who saw things so clearly. The one who let others see light and darkness, gave freedom and offered protection. _What am I learning?_

"How even lost souls can build a wonderful house."


	8. Expansive walls

Tim closed and rubbed his eyes, sighing in relief at the darkness that replaced the glow of his laptop screen. Still nothing. _God damn it._ _Or maybe I’m just not good enough to find whatever it is._ Tim thought, depreciating.

There was a knock on his door, Dick pushing it open without asking. "Time for sleep, baby bird." He spoke, a wry smile on his face.

"I’m still working." Tim answered, "Big bird." He added with snark that made Dick grin.

"You’re allllways working." Dick strolled in easily and tipped Tim’s chair back, nearly horizontal to the floor. Tim crossed his arms, trusting that Dick wouldn’t drop him (Damien or Jason would be a totally different story). "On that note, anything?" It was easy to hear the hope in his big brother’s voice. Tim shook his head with a deep sigh, totally defeated. "It’ll be okay, baby bird." Dick offered gently, rubbing the wrinkle out of Tim’s forehead.

"Shouldn’t you be asleep too?" Tim deflected, meeting Dick’s bright blue eyes that had their own dark rings (not as dark as Tim’s but Tim was the champion of dark eye rings and sleep deprivation).

"I’ll sleep when you do." Dick answered with a mischievous tone, _huh Dick’s rarely seen manipulative side…_ Tim thought, knowing he’d feel guilty if he were the reason that Dick didn’t get enough sleep.

It was as if the older male could see Tim’s thought process as his smirk widened when Tim let out another sigh, "You win, I’ll go to bed." He sat Tim back up and plunked down on Red Robin’s bed to wait him out _and stare at the back of my head like a menace until I turn off everything._

"I heard that Doctor Fate is going to be back tomorrow." Dick said casually as Tim went about saving everything and shutting his laptop down, arranging the files on his desk so he could remember their order.

"Hopefully he’ll find something." Tim responded in a mutter, rubbing his forehead and sagging in his chair.

"Even if he does, it won’t be like we missed something." Dick spoke softly, his ‘we’ meaning ‘you’. Tim smirked internally _And there’s Dick’s sweet side._ "It’ll probably be some mystical hoodoo."

"’Hoodoo’?" Tim repeated quizzically.

Dick grinned randomly, "You do."

Tim’s eyebrows pulled together in confusion, "Do what?"

"Remind me of the babe!" And then he started to hum/sing something.

"…what?"

"Come on Timmy! David Bowie, Labyrinth~? You know?"

"No?"

"Uncultured swiiiine!" Dick teased, tugging on Tim’s arms, "Even Jason and Damien have seen Labyrinth!"

"Both of which, I’m sure, were forced to watch it." Tim went dead-weight, not that it deterred Dick from standing up, grasping under Tim’s arms, and pulling him upright.

"They liked it!" Dick protested, pivoting to tumble Tim into his bed. Red Robin allowed the manhandling, knowing he wasn’t going to get dropped or twisted by his brother.

"Bet they told you that so you wouldn’t make them re-watch it." Tim taunted, finding it hilarious how Nightwing’s lips literally pouted up like a child when he pouted.

"Noooo~" Dick whined, grabbing Tim’s ankles and tugging so Tim was lying in his bed. "Want your slippers off?" Red Robin shrugged, watching his brother frown only a second before plucking the slippers off and then proceeding to roll some fuzzy socks on in their place, "Because your toes are always cold." He explained at Tim’s look, pulling the covers up to his younger brother’s shoulders and doing the very mom-like tuck in.

"Right…" The boy murmured, watching Dick turn off lights and climb in on the other side of the bed, squishing up close to Tim as if the queen size bed was actually a single.

They lay there in silence for a moment, Tim wondering if Dick drifted off to sleep already, "Where’d you get them?" So he rightfully jumped a bit when the older boy spoke softly.

"Get what?" Tim asked after a quick recovery.

Dick chuckled warmly in his ear, his feet tangling with Tim’s, "Your socks, silly." Nightwing’s stupid foot managed to drag across the bottom of Tim’s, making the baby bird jerk as the nerve was tickled and Dick giggled.

Red Robin fought off Dick’s feet with his own, "Bruce gave them to me, he said my toes are always cold too." Big brother fought back while laughing, before surrendering- not that Tim felt much of a victory since in the same moment, Dick wrapped his arms around RR and pulled him even closer.

"Diiick~" Tim finally whined, when his struggles were met with those gangly arms tightening even more; (‘struggles’ meaning a little flopping around).

"Give up, you know you like it. Everyone likes hugs." Dick responded and Tim could picture the goofy, endearing smile that he must have on his face. Tim huffed, but protested no more. "Night night, baby bird, love you." Dick coo-ed.

"G’nite, love you too…" Tim murmured back, letting his body relax into the gymnast’s hold. Truth was, _yeah okay_ he liked the hugs, Dick was right. Tim’s parents had never been fans of physical affections, or really any sort of affection… So it was nice to feel another person’s warmth, it was nice to feel that someone wanted you, _even only as a teddy bear_ Tim snickered internally; _Better than a butt-warmer though…_ he thought of Stephanie, who was also a cuddler, but funny enough, liked to sleep with her butt as the thing pressed against Tim- back, pelvis, sides, didn’t matter, but Tim could count on her butt touching him whenever they shared a bed. Tim held in a laugh so not to bother Dick.

Thinking about it, Tim had been cuddled by more people after he’d become a teenager than when he’d been a child. Dick and Steph, of course. But Cassandra liked to cuddle sometimes, during movies and whatnot- but it was always on her terms. Jason was not a touchy person, and yet, he did seem to like being close, whether it was leaning against whomever he was around or resting his weight peoples’ shoulders, he did like contact. Damien, all bark and bite, was an unconscious snuggler- Tim had woken up once or twice with the baby bat pressed against his back (it was on those nights that both Damien and Tim went to Dick’s bed because it always made things better when they were together). He’d never been close enough to Babs to know about her physical affection preferences. And Alfred, obviously, was very reserved but he’d allow hugs once in a blue moon. And Bruce…

Well Bruce’s affection was…calculated. If Batman was hugging you, it was because he knew you were getting ready to fall apart at the seams and he wanted to hold you together. Not that that made Bruce cold, he just wasn’t much of an initiator. However, you could hug Bruce whenever and he’d accept it. Alternatively, Tim couldn’t bring himself to act like…well Dick and cling to Bruce all the time, because he could never get over that feeling that he was annoying.

He remembered that first hug though, the first time Bruce squeezed him so tight he was almost breathless for a minuet. _Huh…I must’ve fallen asleep…_ Tim thought as he could hear Bruce’s heart thundering as he held Tim and could feel the worry.

He remembered when he first got that up-close glimpse of the real Batman, the Batman with a Robin at his side, the Batman that now claimed him as Robin; that true understanding of what it was like to have Batman’s trust. The elation, the pride, and just there’s a side of Batman that only Robin knows and it’s the greatest secret to have in your heart. He wouldn’t have considered that maybe Bruce was also feeling anything too substantial or new, Tim was the third Robin after all. But maybe, he was actually having his heart swell as it made room for Tim and surprise that such an intelligent and wonderful child actually wanted to be at his side.

Tim remembered too, the honor he felt when Bruce asked him if he would allow Bruce to adopt him. ‘Allow’! As if Bruce was the one that thought he might been unworthy of having Tim as a son, as if Tim would ever have said anything but yes. With Tim’s parents being in the grave or in the hospital, all Tim wanted was to have someone, anyone that could want him; hell, Tim didn’t even have anyone else other than Bruce and Alfred (and vaguely Dick) at that point.

Remembered when he realized that he wasn’t just Bruce’s son on paper, but in his heart. That, oh god, he was loved, that he was this man’s baby. And he could love Bruce too without feeling like he was just butting in where he didn’t belong. Ah, that look on Bruce’s face when Tim first called him ‘dad’! It was like a weight had lifted, there was a glow to Batman’s eyes, a ramrod that straightened in his back, and a tender smile that crept up and stayed just long enough for Tim to see. _Who knew there was such a look?_

 _…I miss him…_ Tim ached to see that look, to hear his voice; both the gruff Batman tone and the rich Dad baritone- even the annoying Brucie voice that seemed to somehow bounce off of walls and get more annoying. But Tim would take that, take it just like the walls. _Hn._ Tim probably was like the walls- structured and subtle, could be just a fixture or pull attention as needed. More importantly though, reliable and resilient, standing against all weather and intruders. _I want Bruce…_ The walls shook as if an earthquake rolled beneath them.

"Timmy, wake up!" Dick pulled Tim to consciousness. Red Robin put a hand over his mouth, but it did little to muffle the sob that escaped. "Oh baby bird…"

"I want my dad."


	9. The Doctor is in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Admit it, that chapter title made you giggle.

Doctor Fate had traversed the universe and many parallel universes, knew more than most souls every dreamed of knowing, and was part of an existence that held off beings of pure chaos, and yet…he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise as 7 pairs of bat-children’s eyes and one butler’s sharp glance bore into him. It was eerie and unnerving, affecting his human side and even his mystical side a little. There was an expectation to the air that dared Doctor Fate not to find answers.

Luckily, there was…something… "Well?" Nightwing inquired, brows lifted.

"His soul isn’t in his body." Doctor Fate answered, internally cringing as the batkids’ expressions tightened, seeming to get hostile.

"What do you mean?" Red Robin asked.

"His soul has been pushed out of his body, I’m not sure by who or how, but that’s why he doesn’t wake."

"So how is he still alive, because he is alive, if he doesn’t have a soul?!" Red Hood demanded loudly.

"That’s what’s curious…" Perhaps ‘curious’ was the wrong word, as those frowns got deeper, "I mean, something, some sort of magic is maintaining his body. A very…ancient magic." _So ancient I can’t identify it…_

"That means he’s going to get better, right?" Batgirl asked.

"His soul gone! It’s not like getting over a fucking cold! That’s not something you ‘get better’ from!" Red Hood snapped.

"Hey! Don’t be yelling at her." Red Robin hissed.

"Well if she didn’t say something stupid!" Red Hood retorted.

"Excuse me!?" Batgirl turned on Hood.

"Guys! Guys! Stop it!" Nightwing stepped between Red Robin, Batgirl, and Red Hood.

"Its not stupid, it was a valid question if its something he can recover from." Red Robin ignored Nightwing, "He said the soul was pushed out, not that its gone!" And all the attention was back on Doctor Fate, making his skin itch. "Right? His body is being kept alive because his soul is coming back to it, right?"

"I’m…not sure." Doctor Fate admitted, and Red Hood let out a snigger. "I haven’t encountered this magic before, so I’m not definite on anything. However, since the body is maintained, it is possible that the soul can return."

"Great, so we’re back to where we fucking started with, what was it, oh right, nothing." Red Hood growled and then stomped out of the room.

"I am sorry I can’t be of more help. I don’t have power over the soul." Doctor Fate apologized.

Nightwing shook his head, offering a smile, "No, its okay, you’ve done your best and that’s all we can ask for. Thank you for coming."

"Is there anything else you can tell us? About the magic that is maintaining it, or how a soul might get pushed out of a body? Anything?" Red Robin asked.

"The magic that is maintaining it, is, as I said, very old, and that means it’s powerful. I don’t think it’s responsible for pushing the soul out, but perhaps actually trying to help. I thought I caught a hint of what might’ve made the soul come out, but this other magic is repairing damage as we speak. As just a guess, I believe it may be Wiff, a spiritual being that sometimes inhabits mortal vessels for short periods of time. They feed on fear and anxieties of the soul, but they are weak and any damage that comes to their vessel directly effects them. I only say this, because that’s what I was dealing with off-world, a few planets had Wiff infestations. They can be banished with magic and ritual, but I can’t reverse what has already been done." Doctor Fate looked the Batman’s family in the eye, "We can only trust that his soul is as strong as his will and he will find his way back to you."


	10. Fire

Stephanie was shocked that Tim hadn’t argued when Nightwing gave orders that he was to take the night off and stay in. He didn’t even protest a bit, just meekly shrugged his shoulders and trudged back upstairs.

"Little brother sad." Cassandra said as she and Steph returned to the manor, "Um… mad? Doesn’t like just waiting around."

"Frustrated." Steph supplied and Cass nodded, "I mean we all are, but usually he fights even harder when he’s hit a wall though, Tim is like a pitbull with locked jaws, he doesn’t **ever** let go of things."

"Can’t change what is. He knows." Cass replied.

"You’re right." Steph sighed, "As always." She offered a smile, as they reached Cassandra’s room, "Guess this is goodnight, see ya in the morning." She gave Cass a tight hug and then stepped into the room that she’d procured years ago.

She crawled onto the bed and sat for a moment, winding down. The night hadn’t been exactly hard, but it had been rough. The sheer volume of criminals out there was just astounding and it had been on the rise since Batman was out. _Its like they know, some weird criminal instincts…_ She pondered, laying out on her back, looking at the whitewashed ceiling. She sighed, wondering how long they were going to have to wait for Bruce to get back. Because he was **definitely** coming back. He was just like Tim, never ever just let go, or rather Tim probably got the trait from B or at the very least refined it under him.

 _And its not like you can just get rid of the Batman, not in any absurd way._ Hell Bruce had had every bone in his body broken at least once, even his whole spine. He’d been lost in time, and there’s no way his heart hadn’t stopped once or twice. Plus the knife and bullet wounds that always got so so close to those lethal points. He **had** to come back.

She breathed, closing her eyes, and letting herself relax into the bed. Trying to remember what her world used to be like without Batman. The daughter of a villain and a depressed woman nursing an addiction, there wasn’t much else to be said.

She remembered her first time donning her spoiler costume and actually feeling like she was making a difference- feeling like hey, maybe she could have a place in the darkness too. Especially when she was used by her own father, and then she was face-to-face with the original terror himself and it was inspiring. She remembered thinking ‘yes, that’s the power I want’, power like the Batman, some weird ability to hold yourself in a way that commanded respect and fear. Of course, she wasn’t going to let him leave her behind that night or after…

And then after everything with Tim and…her baby…and Batman was the one who came to her and offered to train her; because if she was going to keep doing this, then she was damn well going to be trained for it. Of course there had been troubles there with the identity stuff, but it was worth it to become closer to what she wanted to be; plus there was the added bonus of meeting Cass.

And then wow, being Robin. There was something just…remarkable about being Batman’s Robin, there’s a side that only Robin sees. And truthfully, she still misses seeing that side sometimes. Its this weird gentle and protective dad side that just wants to build you up, wants to teach you, and…wants to actually share some of himself with you (which isn’t that just like the most anti-Batman thing ever).

And, oh god, dying. She never thought of how it must’ve just crushed Bruce to lose her. He lost so much stuff in life, it was no wonder he was so emotionally broken. And after she’d come back, how he’d like put tabs on her. Someone on his behalf was always checking in, and more than once, she’d been nursed at the manor, rather than at home. As Batgirl, she had as much equipment as Cass ever did.

She had officially become family for him in that weird Bruce-way where he didn’t actually tell you anything, but suddenly your birthdays were celebrated, you were expected to be there at Christmas and Thanksgiving, and if you were starting to fail one lame geometry class- Bruce barked about school and grades. How if it was even mentioned that she couldn’t afford a book for college, or this really soft cashmere sweater from the mall- all books, cashmere sweater, and matching fucking socks would show up the next day.

Oh Jesus she missed him. Missed his assholery, because hey, that was his ‘in-charge’ personality, and his fakey Brucie, because, even though it drove the boys crazy, she found it hilarious. And, wow, even though they very much denied it, avoided it, and pretended it didn’t exist, he was like her father now. Even if he disapproved, he **always** had her back, would **always** come to her rescue, and would **always** have a home for her.

 _He is definitely coming back._ Steph thought, _because I won’t be able to handle it if he doesn’t._

-

"You know, you guys all look alike when you frown…" The voice said to Bruce as he watched Stephanie in her fitful sleep.

 _I hadn’t noticed._ Bruce thought back dryly. It was somewhat strange to see Steph out of it, he rarely saw her unconscious as it was, but she was just so…alive by nature. Like fire. A fire in the fireplace that could be volatile but could warm the whole house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't quite have a handle on Stephanie as much as I like. So apologies to anyone who might feel like I ruined her.


	11. The Baby

Damian had become weak. He hated sleeping alone now. _I blame Grayson…_ He thought bitterly as he lay in the dark. Before, he’d never known nor needed such a pathetic thing as comfort, but oh now that he knew of it-how he’d become accustomed to it. _Weakness…_ he thought with disgust, clenching his fingers in his blankets and refusing to go find comfort as he had been for the past few nights. _Breathe, meditate, clear your mind…_ He took a deep breath, holding it and releasing in practiced rhythm. It did little to ease his anxious spirit.

 _Damn it._ Damian let out a little growl, rolling to his side and wrapping his arms around Titus. The dog licked his face lazily, going back to snoring almost instantly. The warmth of his companion helped, but Damian still felt…alone.

 _When did being alone become such a terrible thing?_ Damian wondered. He used to thrive when alone, he’d been sharpened like a blade with solitude when he was trained. And yet now? He desired warmth that was not his own, kind senseless words, and all such ‘family’ things as Grayson put it. He wanted his father, the pillar of the family’s strength, wanted the security that the man naturally gave. Security that Damian should not dare crave, even if he didn’t need it.

 _This is not clearing your mind._ Damian scolded himself, biting his lip as the thoughts continued to pull at him. He remembered what it was like before having a family, remembered not needing anything, and still he considered that now, with all his weakness, better. And wasn’t that just ridiculous?!

He sighed. He remembered first meeting Father. How he spat out unimpressed words so easily despite them being total lies. He still gave himself props for such a magnificent performance in deception, and how he easily established that he was not a child before such a great man. ‘I thought you’d be taller’. Simple words really. Though Damian’s thoughts had stuttered just a little in awe. Batman, the man that his grandfather praised and his mother deemed worthy enough to procreate with, was the embodiment of a warrior (even though unconventional). All broad shoulders and grand physique that Damian did hope carried in his blood, plus a calm analytical mind that pieced together the unfathomable, and the easy power he gave off with just his presence.

He often wondered what Batman had thought of him in that moment as well. Pleased that he had produced such a fine heir? Unhappy that Damian was still small and not the most effective soldier yet? Maybe it was just surprise. _Huh, Batman surprised?_ Damian must have fallen back asleep, because such a silly thought wouldn’t have occurred to his conscious mind. That Batman was actually just surprised when he first met Damian, that he was unsure of how to treat a soldier that would now be under his hand. Wait, not a soldier, a child, his child. He hadn’t known what this child would be like, who this child was, and how he could make this child happy. But he was going to try his damnedest to take Damian in and make him happy because Damian was **his**. _Huh._

Damian remembered too, when Bruce first saw the boy’s abilities. He had thought that perhaps Bruce was unimpressed because Bruce had seen many fighters, or just observed and assessed with no real feeling. However, was Father actually amazed by his potential and secretly pleased that his son was already so good? _Of course, I am the Batman’s son._

The baby bat could recall the moment when he realized that he was not a mere soldier to his father and that there would be much more to their relationship; that Damian would actually seek praise and feel badly when scolded. They were family. _Horrifying._ Damian remembered the anxiety when he realized that as well, that he was expected to fit in, he didn’t know **how** to fit in, **how** to be one of the family. And how when he was just getting a glimmer of understanding- Bruce was taken away, lost in time, and beyond Damian’s reach; irony, that finally Damian had gotten accustomed to the idea of it all, and Bruce was gone.

He was just grateful that Dick had stuck around so he didn’t falter so badly. What was it was like to have a brother, a familial brother, not one in-arms, was still something that Damian was stupefied by. Someone who protected you when you didn’t require it, teased and tumbled with you despite the risk of injury or rather in spite of that, and was always there when you actually did need them- such dedication was beyond Damian. Or had been, Damian liked to think that he was better at this brother thing now, that his unyielding loyalty to his family was clear to them.

And that he was better at the son thing too, that he had his father’s trust the same way that Dick and Tim did (even Jason was relied upon without question in some cases). It was always present in his mind that the other boys had been chosen, where as Damian had just been handed off by his mother. Even the girls knew Father in a way that Damian didn’t. He was just getting there! He had finally breached Batman’s emotional walls, was finally starting to understand the Batman twitches ™ (as Cass and Tim dubbed them) and what they meant, starting to see much more of the Dad smile ™ (Dick and Jason’s naming). He wanted his father back, he wanted the time to be where all the others were when it came to knowing Bruce. He couldn’t keep doing this, losing Batman or being lost himself, unsure of where exactly he stood within his father’s heart simply because he didn’t have the time to piece it all together.

Damian sat up, waking to the taste of blood in his mouth and tears in his eyes. He forced his teeth to release his bottom lip, feeling the deep groove he’d made in his lip with his tongue. He scrubbed at his face, sucking on his lip, and mulling over his weakness even more. _How am I supposed to sleep at this rate?!_ He knew sleep was a necessity to being useful. He shook his head, wasn’t going to happen tonight.

He got out of the bed, rolling out stiffened muscles and joints. He stood in the dark, idly listening to Titus sleep and wondering if anyone else was up-no one in this household slept very well so chances were high that he’d run into someone if he left his room.

He shrugged, making his choice, not like just standing in his room was going to help anything at all. He wandered out into the hallway and down to the kitchen. Both surprised to find the kitchen light on, and not because it was Tim.

"Hey." Tim murmured in acknowledgement, picking at what appeared to be toast, or maybe crackers, Damian couldn’t be sure and honestly he didn’t care.

He didn’t even have it in him to lecture Tim about his inferiority- less sleep was sure to make Tim even worse than usual. All he could do was offer a, "Hey." back in echo, as he took a seat at the bar beside his brother.

They sat in silence, Tim crushing the food on his plate. He was the first to glance over at Damian, "…want a cookie?" He offered a crumbly piece of apparently a cookie.

Damian knew he probably should’ve snipped at Tim, _offering me leftover crumbs?!_ But he still didn’t have the heart to snap right now, "…sure." He took the piece and stuffed it in his mouth before laying his head down on the bar.

"…you okay?" Tim questioned quietly. Damian turned his head to face Tim, unable to think of exactly what answer he should give.

"He’s coming back, right?" Damian blurted before he could stop himself. And yet, some part of him was glad he was blurting it to Tim, because while he and Tim bickered non-stop, he knew Tim would be honest; not like Dick, who would be as optimistic as possible, or Jason who would get as grim as possible or start something so he didn’t have to answer.

Tim was silent, putting his head down next to Damian’s and meeting his eyes, Tim’s soft blue to Damian’s green. "I don’t know." He finally answered, voice cold but true. Damian could hear the hurt, shocking himself that he could actually detect that emotion so easily, but it was probably because he was feeling exactly the same. "What do you think?"

Damian grit his teeth, the little question making choke pathetically. He tried, tried so hard to push it down, push it back down, go numb, but he couldn’t. _Oh no_. He let out a muted cry, tears clouding out the sight of soft blue.

"Baby bat…" Tim murmured sympathetically, wrapping an arm around his youngest brother and pulling Damian close. He didn’t give any more words, just held Damian at his side. _What disgrace, even Drake is acceptable comfort now!_ But it helped.

-

 _Please let it be over._ Batman thought, unsure if it was to the voice or to the situation in general. Even his youngest had cracked. His baby. The baby rather. The baby of the family. Awkward and learning, but the one who manages to bring out something more from each of them; Dick’s mothering side, Jason’s playfulness, Tim’s patience, Stephanie’s carefree side, Cass’ understanding, Barbara’s humor, Alfred’s stern kindness, and Bruce’s love. Love for his baby, and his kids, and his family. It all seems complete when they’re all together as one to shelter Damian and be a home for him.

Bruce suddenly felt a blinding pain that made his soul scream.

"Finally your soul is all back together." And finally a face to match the voice too. "Let’s get you back to your body."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May require more tweaking, I'm not quite sure how I feel about it yet. Opinions?


	12. Home

Bruce felt so heavy. It was wonderful, especially compared to the airiness when he was just a soul. He breathed deep, refreshed by the control of his own body, cracking his eyes open with some difficulty. Sight, so nice to be able to see again, to perceive visually. He tested his joints and muscles, relieved to have instant response. With that, he sat up, pushing back the blankets, and looking around his room. _Wonder what time it is, where are the kids and Alfred?_ He thought, pushing back the blankets even more and pivoting to get out of the bed. He rose to his feet, stumbling a bit on numbed limbs, but he got a handle on it quickly and was headed towards his open doorway.

Abruptly, there was Jason, just as Bruce was halfway to his destination. Jason stared, as if stunned by the sight of Bruce. "D-Dad…?" He whispered.

Bruce gave a weak smile, he hated when his kids looked hurt and confused and just out of it, "Hey Jay."

"He’s awake!!!!" Jason bellowed, voice echoing down the hall and then almost before Bruce could react, Jason was wrapped around him, face in his shoulder, and arms tight around his chest. "You’re awake."

Bruce felt something loosen inside, a sigh leaving him as tears clouded his eyes, "Yes." He hugged his boy back. But that was the only moment they had, when the other kids poured into the room with a ruckus and Jason pulled away. Dick was the first into his emptied arms, followed by Damian wedging his way in, and then Tim tucking under his left arm and clinging. "Are you all okay?" He asked, looking them over.

"We’re the ones who should be asking you that!" Stephanie snickered, voice quivering as she squished Damian even closer as she joined in, while Cassandra ninja-ed her way into the hug at Dick’s side.

He took inventory of his brood one-by-one, petting heads and wiping away tears that probably equaled the amount he was shedding. They must’ve been asleep, except for Jason. Dick’s hair was mussed and he had pressure marks on his face from his pillowcase. Tim looked washed out, a smear of dried drool on his cheek. Damian was warm to the touch, a soft pink tone to his skin. Stephanie’s hair was a wild mess of gold, her eyeliner smeared. Cassandra wore a blanket like a cape, one side of her hair standing up.

"Master Bruce," Alfred entered the room and, for once, looked tired, body loose and tension in his spine relaxing.

"Hey Alfred. I’m sorry." He looked over his family, his house, his reasons for living. "To all of you, I’m sorry." He meant for everything; for their worry, and for their pasts, for the times he never said sorry, and the times when his apologies weren’t adequate. He reached out a hand and dragged Jason closer by his shoulder, crushing all his bats and birds as he embraced them. They didn’t seem to mind, even as they all cried, noses running and eyes going bloodshot. Not even seeming to mind that they were starting to become more a tangle of limbs and tears rather than people.

He sighed again in relief, happy to be home. As the voice had said, lost souls could build a wonderful house. Hell, it was the fact that they were lost souls that made this home so imperfectly perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Barbara is not there and I'm sorry, but I just think she pretty much stays at her home. I'll see about coming up with an epilogue chapter for her and Bruce to bond and whatnot :)


	13. Little Girl

_Bruce is awake._ That was the only thought Barbara continually had, over and over, as she made her way to the manor just as the sun was peaking from the horizon. The tone of the thought balanced precariously between _of course he’s awake_ like she shouldn’t even be surprised and _how is he awake!?_ Because the guy had been without a soul!

But lo and behold! Batman was already back on his goddamn feet after being soulless for several days! She would admit that she could only stare blankly for just a moment. Not only was he back on his feet, he had everyone else sprawled across the bed quietly and without the usual chaos that came when you put all four of the boys in proximity.

He immediately noticed her and gave her a look of such warmth that Barbara felt her breath catch as emotions bubbled up. "I’m glad you’re here. Are you alright?" He asked, walking to her and crouching to eye-level.

"Am **I** alright? You’re the one we’ve all been worried about." She said to him, somehow managing to keep her voice steady though she could feel her eyes starting to mist.

He nodded, "I know, I’m sorry." He softly brushed away a tear that had escaped, patting her cheek gently. _Jeeze_ she thought, exasperated, leaning forward to wrap her sort-of father in a hug. His arms wrapped back around her, as he stood and held her like a little girl. Well she was **his** little girl. Barbara’s dad’s nicknames for her had always been things like ‘red’ or ‘Barb’ and ‘Babs’. But Bruce, or rather, Batman, was the one that called her ‘little girl’ in the same way he had little nicknames for all the kids that everyone thought came from Dick but it stemmed from Bruce!

"I’m glad you’re alright." She said to him. He hummed in agreement and sat her on the bed in front of Dick.

"So, we were just brushing him up on what he missed, and then we were going to grill him on what happened to him." Dick updated her, adjusting the comforter around them and pulling her back into his lap. She spared a glance around the bed, not surprised all 7 of them fit on the bed, but still shocked that no one was going at it. Hell with Jason taking up one side of the bed as he lay on his stomach, with Steph leaning her back against his side. Tim with his head in her lap and his body curled on its side and around Damian(? How the hell did **that** happen?). Cassandra also sharing the comforter and on her belly with her head on Damian’s crossed legs and Dick sitting right next to her with his legs outstretched and now Barbara comfortably seated between them.

"Ah." She nodded, "And so?"

"It was long and boring and now he knows, so it’s his turn to spill." Jason answered, a slight sharpness to his voice.

Bruce’s stone face was back up as he began to brief them of the events from his side. It was honestly a relief to see the Batman they knew. Barbara settled a little more comfortably with Dick, listening, and just satisfied now that everything was back to normal. _Normal, ha._


	14. Little Bird

"Soooo~ ice cream huh?" Dick asked perkily as he spotted Bruce at the kitchen; he was eating out of a bin of ice cream with a spoon. Alfred wouldn’t approve. Speaking of, Alfred had banished them all back to bed after Bruce’s awakening and the exchange of stories, and Dick was the first back up again- big surprise.

"I can taste again." Bruce offered as if that explained everything, then offered a wicked smile, holding up a spoon for Dick.

Dick gasped dramatically, "Ice cream for breakfast?! Noo~ way!" Alfred really wouldn’t approve as Dick took the spoon and dug it into the frozen treat with enthusiasm.

"Sworn to secrecy." Bruce whispered conspiratorially, nudging Dick lightly with an elbow. Dick nodded rapidly, though he was sure Alfred would find out.

They ate in silent happiness for a few moments before Dick looked over at his dad, observing, "You’re really okay, right?"

Bruce sighed, but a small smile breached the surface, "Yes little bird, I’m okay. The experience wasn’t pleasant for any of us, but we survived."

Dick got the warm fuzzies at his nickname, it had always only ever been his. "We always survive."

Batman nodded, running a hand through Dick’s hair, tugging teasingly on the longer strands, "As long as we’re all together, its worth it." He glanced over, that small smile had turned into his Dad smile ™ that somehow spoke of so much love that Dick beamed back, "Right, little bird?"

"Right!"


	15. Baby Bat

"I feel fine." Bruce said lowly to Alfred who was unimpressed by the bat-glare.

"It hasn’t been even 24 hours since you were flat on your back, Master Bruce." Alfred returned sternly. Batman’s defeat was certain, he accepted it with a sigh.

"I’ll stay and keep you company, Father." Damian offered.

"That’s very nice, Damian." Bruce answered, patting his son’s head before stalking upstairs, "Let’s find something to do." He beckoned from the top step and Damian sprang to follow, "Suggestions?" He prompted while digging in the kitchen cupboards.

Damian studied his father. There was something…different about him. No, Damian wasn’t saying his father was an imposter, clearly this was still Batman, but there was something…odd. Like a burden was lifted, or father’s demeanor wasn’t as harsh, something…Perhaps it was perspective? "We’ve not read a book together in awhile…?" Robin the fifth answered, surprised at the timidness to his tone.

"Good idea." Bruce replied, finding his sought after snack and heading to the library with Damian at his side. "What’d we read last time? Hm, oh. Grimm’s fairy tales, right?" Damian nodded, he had enjoyed that; preferring the realistic tone of those stories to the optimistic Disney ones. "What should we follow it with? Mystery? Adventure? Hm, what’s this?" Bruce glanced through books, pulling out what appeared to be a misplaced binder that made him chuckle, "Or we could read Dick’s how-to on building a blanket fort." He offered the binder to Damian with a smirk.

The binder, with its assortment of childish drawings and scribbles that might be words if one squinted enough, detailed the most foolish way that Damian could imagine to build a fort; of course it was Grayson’s. "How inadequate. Any fort should not be made of such weak materials, and even so, this design is not properly constructed nor defensible by any means." Damian muttered with a derisive snort.

Damian felt his father studying him and cocked his head curiously when Bruce gave a mischievous smile, "How would you make a well constructed and defensible blanket fort then?"

"Well I-"

"Show me."

"You’re not really suggesting that we are to do something as childish as make a blanket fort??" There really was a lightness to Bruce’s behavior since he’d awakened that Damian just didn’t know how to react.

"Why not? Got all night, right?" Bruce answered with a shrug, "So, where do we start? Couch cushions?"

"Something more structurally sound would make a better frame." Damian was starting to formulate at this new challenge. If his father wanted to build a blanket fort, then on Damian’s honor it was going to be the best blanket fort that had ever been built! With that thought in mind, he and Batman rallied together and got to work.

Hours passed before the fort was done to Damian’s liking, but they did have all night so it mattered little. But finally, they were sitting inside of the fort with blankets layered expertly above and around them, encasing them in a cocoon.

"Good job, baby bat." Bruce said softly.

"Please father, don’t stoop to Grayson’s level with the nicknames." Damian murmured, surprised when his father gave him a measured look and then started to chuckle warmly. It was perplexing, but nice. So very nice to hear his father laugh and feel his father lean closer, that mass of muscle and ability controlled precisely to not harm but instead be comforting.

"I’ll give you that Dick came up with ‘Dami’, and ‘Dames’ and ‘Little D’, and whatever else. But," Bruce dropped his voice to a whisper that hinted at mischief, "’baby bat’ has always been mine for you. Always."

"What?" Damian whispered back, wide-eyed with shock.

"I made the mistake of saying it around Dick first and he ran with it, but yes, you’re my baby bat, just as Dick is my little bird."

"B-but…how? Why?" Damian was abruptly aware that he was blushing and feeling so incredibly embarrassed, but so wonderfully loved too.

"I’d like to think that I get at least one nickname since I am your father. Right?" Damian could only nod in answer, not sure he could trust his tongue in light of this unthinkable truth- that his father had an embarrassing nickname for him and maybe that told all there was to tell about where he was in his father’s heart.


	16. Baby Bird

"You should be in bed." Tim jerked a little in surprise, it was 6:28 am, no one should be up in this household yet.

"So should you." Tim murmured when he identified his dad walking into the kitchen.

Batman snickered slightly at the retort, "I slept for days, I don’t need any more right now." He put his hand on Tim’s shoulder, "Where as you did the opposite, so you need my share of sleep." Tim grunted, getting a surprise giggle when Bruce teased his hairline and ears.

"Daaaad~" Tim whined when Bruce relentlessly tickled; he was so tired, everywhere was ticklish.

"You need sleep, baby bird." Batman finally let Tim be with a last drag of his fingers through the boy’s hair.

"Everyone says that." Tim muttered, waving nonchalantly.

"For once, everyone is agreeing on something and you doubt the truth?" Bruce replied, starting some hot water in the teakettle and taking a barstool next to Tim, who could only mutter nonsense back. "What are you working on anyway?"

"I missed some Wayne Tech reports and other business." Tim squinted as Bruce presented him with a teacup and swiped his documents away, "I wasn’t done yet!"

"You are for now. Drink the tea and then to bed."

Tim grinned, "You sound like Alfred."

Bruce’s look got wicked, "Well they do say that people become their parents. Be afraid, I’m your future."

Tim actually burst out laughing then, "I’d say we’re already at the future then." He encompassed the paperwork and their matching cups of chamomile tea with a gesture; he didn’t even have to think about their other similarities when it came to looks and behaviors, plus everyone did say that Tim was the most similar to Bruce.

Batman shook his head and patted Tim’s head, "You’re better." He offered that Dad smile ™, "You’re already better than me." The words hurt in that good way, like an emotional wall toppling, and Tim wanted to cry but chose to lean over into his dad’s arms and let himself be held like a child. "So much better." Bruce pet his hair, "And so much more tired too. C’mon, to bed." Tim let himself be ushered back upstairs to his own bedroom.

First Dick and now Bruce tucking him in, "I’m not tired." Tim offered as a last hurrah. He couldn’t make it too easy.

Bruce only ruffled his hair, "Goodnight, baby bird."

"Goodnight." _Big bat, maybe? Haha. I really must be tired._


	17. Little Wing

Jason peeked around the door into Bruce’s office, seeing what he expected- Bruce elbows deep in paperwork from Wayne enterprises, everything he’d missed while he was knocked out. _Bitch-face…_ What Jason and Steph lovingly called that expression that both he and Tim got when they were dealing with the necessary evils of business.

Apparently his staring had drawn attention, as Bruce called, "Jason?" expectantly, though he didn’t look up.

"Alfred told me to bring up your lunch." Jason said as he walked in, holding out two fancy sandwiches (only Alfred could make something as simple as a sandwich fancy) on a plate with a handful of chips.

"Thank you." Bruce gestured for Jason to set it on the edge of the desk that wasn’t covered in paper.

"Yea, welcome…" Jason set down the food, ready to back out and be glad he’d gotten out of another interaction with Bruce unscathed; though they’d been getting along lately, Jason knew all it would take is one little fuse lit for it all to go to hell.

Before he could make his hasty retreat, Bruce had taken his wrist, tracing his vein as if feeling his pulse though the gesture felt…tender rather than medicinal, "I’m so glad you’re alive, and that you’re here." Bruce murmured, glancing up at Jason and offering that gentle Dad smile ™, "Love you, little wing." He patted Jason’s hand and then looked back at his paperwork, as if he hadn’t just said what he just did. _As if he hadn’t just…just!_

Jason felt a knot in his chest, was choking back something that he swore was not a sob, "Wh-why would you just randomly say shit like that?!" He bit out, gritting his back teeth and also swearing that that was not tears clouding his vision.

Bruce’s head snapped up, worry creasing his brows, "Jay?" Jason could only shake his head, worried that the not-sobs would escape. _You can’t just tell me you love me! I have to be prepared for it!_ Bruce stood up, cupping Jason’s face, "Why are you crying, son?" He whispered.

"I’m not crying!" Of course, it would’ve been better had Jason’s voice not broken, with a whimper following.

"Okay." Bruce seemed at a loss, observing for a moment before sliding a hand to the back of Jason’s neck and guiding his son’s face into his shoulder, "I don’t know how I’ve upset you, but I’m sorry."

"Not sorry." Jason snuffled, giving in to the urge to throw his arms around Bruce, "I wasn’t ready!"

"Ready?"

"For you to say that you, you…" Jason’s voice dropped to the barest whisper, "love me…" Bruce tensed at the word, and Jason could almost have laughed _did B not even realize when he said it?!_ Now that was funny.

"Oh." Bruce continued patting Jason’s back, struggling with words, "Um, sorry you weren’t ready…its not like…well I was just thinking it…so I said it…" They stood there quietly, a freaking 20 year old clinging to his father like a 5 year old…or worse, like Dick. Not that Jason was gonna let go just yet. Bruce let out a short laugh and at Jason’s inquiring ‘hmm?’ said, "You know, for us knowing a dozen languages together, we should be much better with speaking."

Jason grinned, "You’d think."


	18. Baby Girl

Punch to the jaw- broken tooth and instant knockout. Low kick to the knees- one knee broken and the other popped out of place. A grab to the wrist with the arm twisted outwards- wrist twisted, forearm broken, then the shoulder dislocated.

 _Dad is in a good mood._ Cassandra thought happily, observing Batman’s violence with scrutiny, appreciating the lightness of his movements and power in his hands. She was glad to see that his soulless days had not affected him physically. If anything, he seemed invigorated. The usual stiffness that came after patrol, from years and years of being rough on his body and well since it was years and years…had gone, replaced with a smoothness that suggested a younger body if Cassandra didn’t know better.

"Black Bat." Batman murmured as he joined her on the rooftop, his body conveyed greeting and the soft tick in his cheek gave away the smile he hid, "you could have joined me down there." He said sternly, though Cassandra knew his amusement.

"Happy watching, you win." She said with a smile, patting his arm.

He let out a ‘humph’, his version of a chuckle, "I see."

"In good mood. Why?" She asked, curious.

"Me?" Cass nodded, "Oh. It feels good to move I suppose." He answered, surprising that she had gotten it out of him so easily and honestly, though that had always been what she was best at. "And you, baby girl?" His voice was soft, it barely traveled, just enough to her ear. There’s something strange about words, how they can be something so meaningful just because its said by one person, said in one way, meant love without having to say ‘love’, meant even more than just that one word.

She beamed, leaning close to her dad, "Because you’re back."


	19. Blondie

It rarely happened, but tonight was one of those nights, one of the nights where Stephanie almost got to feel like a Robin again. She and Batman were on patrol together, or well had ended up together after a gang-war between the gang that Steph was tracking and the one that Batman had been on. Plus Damien was off with Dick in Bludhaven, so that meant just her and the bat themselves.

"So…" Unused to patrolling with Batman, she was even less used to hesitating about what to say.

With his usual mind-game business, Bruce seemed to read her thoughts, "Don’t tell me you’re still worrying too?"

"Well you were without a soul apparently." She answered with a shrug.

"Apparently." Batman repeated, deadpan. Steph snorted a little laugh and pushed at him. Unmovable as always and yet far too quick for being an old man as he plucked at her hair and spun her around for good measure.

Stephanie was surprised, Bruce never messed around when they were in costume! But how fun! She pushed at him again, this time ready for his response. Grabbing and hanging on to his arm when he reached for her, feeling childish glee at being lifted for a moment. "See, I’m fine, blondie." He told her softly.

"Yeah…" She smiled, releasing him and following as they jumped off one roof and on to another, sweeping the streets. Not much going on tonight, probably the gang war was enough for once....................................

 

"THAT’S ENOUGH." A voice bounced off the walls from one of the projects, it wasn’t a scream and yet this voice was booming. Batman and Batgirl both stopped, looking down to see a woman who stood above two grown men with her hands on her hips. "You’re waking the children, go have your drunken fight somewhere else." She snarled.

"Eh?! You bitch-!" One of the men started to protest, but the words died on his lips when she slammed her foot between his legs, just inches from his crotch.

"I said, go away." Her voice was steel. And her look must’ve been equally powerful as the two men lumbered to their feet and then skulked away.

Stephanie let out a small whistle, impressed by this woman who wasn’t afraid to stand her ground like that. "Looks like she doesn’t need help, huh Batman?"

Batman was silent, still looking down as the woman gave a cursory glance about, even up towards them, before she went back inside. The bat was still so quiet, so focused, "B?"

Finally Bruce spoke, more like murmured, "It’s her."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, maybe Batman was a little OOC in this one? I dunno- but its my sucky fic so I can do what I want! XD Again, sorry if Steph isn't right ? Anyways, yes that's the end...for now? maybe? .... Thanks all for reading and double thanks to those who reviewed! Hope it was semi-fun! :)


End file.
